


Road Trip

by Ekokai



Category: The Pretender, The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:56:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekokai/pseuds/Ekokai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sent to do another dirty job for the Consortium, Skinner is in for a rough few days when he abducts Jarod with plans to bring him back to The Centre. His biggest problem? Keeping his hands to himself while his unwilling prisoner drives him to distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Pretender and Jarod belong to NBC and  
> MTM. The X-Files and Walter Skinner belong to CC, 1013 and  
> Fox. The idea to put them together in this story belongs to the  
> warped author. 
> 
> Spoilers: Pretender:Pilot through Back From The Dead Again  
> X-Files: Zero Sum through Demons
> 
> Originally published May 1998 in the fanzine The Centre Fold and on the Pretender Links Reference Guide.

Walter Skinner smiled to himself as he felt the knob turn and the door open without so much as a creak. Sliding the lock pick into its case he shoved it into his pocket, retrieving his gun at the same time. Giving the room a quick glance before stepping inside, he closed the door quietly behind him.

"Good grief," he mumbled to himself, stepping further into the disaster his target was calling 'home'. He felt something squish under his foot but didn't bother looking down. It had to be the same substance that covered almost every available surface in the one-room apartment. 

Looking around, he spotted a large box in the farthest corner and moved to investigate. As he pulled back the lid, his initial suspicions were confirmed; Silly String. The sticky stuff was sprayed everywhere. He looked up and shook his head; it was even hanging from sections of the ceiling. Putting the mess out of mind for the moment, Skinner quickly went about searching the room, looking for some reason he'd been sent here to perpetrate a kidnapping. 

Irritatingly pushing strands of silly string from the brim of his ball cap, Skinner picked his way to the cluttered desk that dominated the small space. The desk, chair, camp bed, and a couple of boxes were the sole furnishings of the room. The silver Halliburton case on the desk looked promising, and Skinner flipped the catches on it, raising the cover carefully. It looked like a lap top, but there were small CD's tucked down one side. Skinner made a hissing sound between his teeth. This must be something important. Maybe even important enough to give him some much needed leverage in the deal he had made with his particular devil.

He refastened the case, almost missing the slight noise of the door being unlocked. Skinner quickly looked around the room. His footprints in the masses of silly string on the floor made concealment impossible. The door opened and a tall, dark-haired man entered, stopping abruptly when he saw he was not alone.

"You don't look like the usual Sweeper." The stranger smiled wryly before another thought occurred to him. "Or are you a Cleaner?"

"It looks like you could use a cleaner around here." Skinner recognized the man from the picture he'd been given. This was the poor bastard he had to take to Delaware. He stepped forward, maintaining his hold on the case handle. “Hello, Jarod.” 

"You have me at a slight disadvantage," the Pretender replied calmly, his seemingly casual acceptance of the situation surprising Skinner.

Skinner raised his right hand and Jarod's eyes fastened on the gun with a silencer. Definitely not Centre issued. Jarod expertly took in the man's appearance. Hiking boots, well worn jeans,flannel shirt and baseball cap on a muscular body that outweighed Jarod by thirty pounds, although he still had an inch or two on the man.

Skinner watched Jarod sizing him up while he did the same. He'd been warned to be especially careful, but he wasn't seeing anything to worry about. He'd dealt with violent criminals and unruly Marines, not to mention a few agents that couldn't be let out of his sight for ten minutes. What was one man going to do?

The one man took the course that Skinner had not considered. He turned, swung the door open, and ran down the hall to the stairs leading down from the sixth floor. After a second of disbelief, Skinner followed, but once inside the stairwell, he slowed his headlong pursuit. He'd had unpleasant experiences on the stairs before.

His caution paid off. Jarod attempted to ambush him on the fourth floor landing a split second too soon, and Skinner was able to counter his move with a punishing blow to the gut that had the taller man doubled up and gasping. Not giving him time to recover, Skinner set the case down and jerked Jarod upright by his collar, pushing his face into the brick wall.

“Who-?” Jarod managed to wheeze as Skinner, his knee in the small of the younger man’s back, brutally forced his hands behind him and handcuffed them together.

“You don’t need to know.” Skinner ground out. “Now, let’s get something straight. You don’t fight me, don’t call out for help, don’t try to run, and I won’t hurt you. No fuss, no pain. Got it?”

Jarod nodded mutely, scraping his cheek on the harsh brick.

“Come on then.” One hand clenched around Jarod’s upper arm, Skinner scooped up the Halliburton with the other and pulled the man down the stairs. When they reached the ground floor doorway, Skinner shoved his prisoner up beside it.  
Shooting him a warning glance, Skinner opened the door to the outside of the apartment building. Scanning the parking lot for onlookers, he was quickly satisfied that the coast was as clear as it was going to get at 10:30 in the morning.

“No fuss...” He stared at Jarod.

Brown eyes met brown as Jarod finished, “...no pain.”

Nodding curtly, Skinner grabbed Jarod’s arm again and pushed him outside. “Gray van. Over there.”

More from habit than anything else, Jarod's eyes wandered around the area searching for a dark sedan, a sure sign that there were Sweepers nearby, but found nothing. By the time he'd walked the dozen yards to the van, Jarod had already run through four simulations and decided on his course of action. He was still slightly confused over the sudden appearance of this man. He would have had ample warning from his mole in the Centre if trouble was on the way, but there had been nothing. 

It was glaringly apparent that his abductor was not another Centre thug and it was also apparent that he was not a random choice for a kidnapping; the man had called him by name. With his hands cuffed and a concealed weapon pointed at his back, Jarod clearly had no choice but to play along with this little adventure until he could discover the stranger's identity, motive, and weakness. From there, it would be a quick resolution and escape.

Skinner glanced around the parking lot as Jarod took the final steps to the van. A family of four was occupied at the far end of the lot with more luggage than their car could hold, and a maintenance man was pruning the bushes along the side of the building. With no one paying attention to them, it was easy for Skinner to slide open the side door and roughly shove Jarod into the van.

Landing heavily on his side, Jarod managed to turn his body as Skinner put his right foot inside, preparing to enter. On his back, Jarod pulled both legs back then kicked out, propelling his captor from the van.

Skinner stumbled but quickly regained his balance, grabbing Jarod's foot and twisting it viciously. At the gasp of pain, Skinner grimaced. He wasn't a sadist by nature; he just wanted to complete this distasteful job as soon as possible.   
"I warned you," he growled irritably. Ascertaining that Jarod was completely in the van, he slid the door shut and quickly walked to the driver's side door. Taking another quick glance around, he climbed in and pulled a key from his pocket. Before starting the engine, he turned and looked at Jarod who was struggling to a kneeling position on the floor of the van.

"Stay down, Jarod. I don't want to hurt you again."

Jarod met his eyes then subsided to the floor of the van. "Why are you doing this?" 

"Because I have to." Moved by a sense of justice, Skinner added, "I am sorry, but someone's life is at stake."

Jarod's eyes opened wide. "I might be able to help. I --"

"Just shut up." Skinner was already regretting the impulse to confide in this man. His eyes, though, spoke of an understanding of pain and difficult choices. They said he was dangerous, Skinner recalled, but I thought the danger was physical. Looking back at Jarod once more, Skinner felt a tug of emotion that he rejected. Do the job. Just do the job and get it over with.

Jarod leaned back against the carpeted wall of the old van and surveyed his surroundings. Camping gear was efficiently piled in the rear and several topless boxes of provisions were along the opposite side of the vehicle. He took everything in then turned to his new chauffeur.

Oh, great. "Tell me we're not going to Delaware," Jarod told the man as their eyes met in the rear-view mirror.

Skinner didn't even consider answering, but he was dying to ask a few questions of his own. Most importantly, what was in Delaware that was so damned secret? He turned his eyes back to the road as he pulled onto the interstate and headed east.

"Okay," Jarod bargained, knowing how to get around this obstacle. "Then tell me we're not driving there. Do you have any idea how far that is? One thousand, seven hundred--"

"And seventy-three miles," Skinner finished. "I know."

Jarod smiled triumphantly, sitting up straight again. "So we are going to Delaware."

Skinner wanted to kick himself for being tricked, but there was no sense worrying about it now. It's not like it was a big secret to begin with, he just liked keeping his prisoner off balance.

"Yes," Skinner sighed, "we're going to Delaware and we're driving and you're not going to be out of my sight for a second so any plans you're hatching to escape can be put away. I'm taking you there, dropping you off and my part in this is over."

"Your part?" Jarod repeated incredulously. "You make it sound as if this is a small piece in a game someone is playing. A game," he added, "that is going to end my life. 

Skinner set his teeth on any answer he might have made and punched the accelerator. The van surged forward, throwing Jarod onto his back. 

"Hey! Not so rough!" He eyed his captor's neck, noting the tension. Probably has temporal mandibular joint syndrome with those clenched jaw muscles, or at least an ulcer.

"Can't you at least tell me your name?" Jarod listened to his voice, hating the pleading note in it.

Silence was the man's only reply. Silence, and the bunching of the muscles in the powerful arms and shoulders. The display was not intended to intimidate, but it did. Jarod was not accustomed to meeting his match, physically or intellectually. He had a strong suspicion that this man would be able to take him, physically at least, and his resourcefulness spoke of intelligence as well. Jarod's curiosity soon outstripped his apprehension as he began to analyze this man and his actions.

"You were a member of a professional law enforcement organization. You also have a background in the military." Jarod's voice was lifeless as he immersed himself in the simulation. Still, he noticed the man's jerk of surprise. He had hit a nerve. What..? Ah, yes. That was it. "You are currently employed by - the FBI!" Jarod finished smugly before a new thought confused his train of thought.

"How can you work for the FBI and the Centre at the same time?" Jarod tried to keep the condemnation out of his voice, but he had been an FBI agent and knew something about the high standards demanded of its agents.

"Shut the fuck up!" The pain in Skinner's voice surprised Jarod and he sat quietly for a long time, thinking.

 

Eventually the combination of stony silence and the hum of the van lulled Jarod into a much needed sleep. It was his deep, steady breathing that had finally penetrated Skinners bad mood,causing him to adjust the mirror so he could watch his captive, unobtrusively. He marveled at the way the man could be kidnapped then calmly fall asleep like he was used to being restrained and abused. He shook his head at the thought and reached to put the mirror back, then changed his mind. When Jarod woke, Skinner wanted to know about it.

 

Five hours into the journey Skinner started squirming in the driver’s seat. Every rest stop he'd passed for the last sixty miles had called to him, but he'd ignored the pleas of his bladder. He kept thinking there had to be somewhere along the mountain roads to make a private pit stop, but every time there was room to pull off, someone had turned the spot into a 'scenic view' for tourists. He was on the verge of stopping in the middle of the road when he spied the familiar blue sign, guiding him to his reprieve, just one mile ahead.

 

Jarod awoke the moment the van slowed to enter the rest area. He lay with his eyes closed, waiting to see what was going to happen. He didn't wait long. They pulled into a parking space at the far end of the gravel lot and Skinner had the van off and the key in his pocket in an instant. Turning awkwardly in his seat, Skinner considered leaving Jarod where he was, but he didn't want to make a habit of stopping. They were going to have to get on the same schedule if this trip was going to be concluded on time.

Jarod opened his eyes as Skinner climbed in back with him and squatted down. He held the cuff key up and let Jarod get a look at it.

"You are going to get one chance to cooperate," Skinner began, taking the chain of the cuffs in his hand. "If you so much as think about running or calling attention to yourself, this trip is going to become very, very uncomfortable for you."

Jarod glanced around his surroundings then at the key before looking Skinner in the eye.

"I'd hate to lose these deluxe accommodations, so I'll behave...for now." He forced a smile then pushed his restrained wrists closer to the key. "Besides, I have to use the facilities."

"Well we agree on that," Skinner muttered. He looked at Jarod who was still reclined on the floor then made a show of lifting his shirtfront to reveal his weapon.

"Don't make me regret this, Jarod."

"You won't, sir." Jarod noted the other man's casual acceptance of the honorific. A man in a position of authority, an FBI agent, what was he doing working for the Centre? Jarod turned slightly to give him access to the lock of his cuffs. 

Skinner fumbled with the key, holding the other man’s wrists for just a moment longer than necessary. To cover he muttered, “I mean what I say. You had better -”

“- be a good boy.” Jarod turned; his face was less than five inches from the other man’s. “Believe me, I have heard it all before, sir.” This time he spoke the honorific with bitter cynicism. 

Staring into eyes as intensely brown as his own, Skinner swallowed the reprimand. “Come on, then, Jarod.” Backing out of the van, he watched Jarod follow him, rubbing his wrists and forearms where the handcuffs had chafed the tanned skin.

Blinking in the sunlight, Jarod scanned the small rest stop then raised his brows inquisitively.

Skinner jerked his head towards the small brick edifice, surrounded by gravel and guarded by several overflowing trash cans.   
“Pit stop.” Motioning for Jarod to precede him, he walked just a little behind and to the side of the man. He watched as Jarod stretched his arms, making the muscles in his shoulders ripple beneath the fabric of his shirt.

At the doorway, Jarod stopped, assaulted by the odor. Making a face, he turned to look at Skinner who had to bite back a laugh. “Did something die in here?” Jarod was obviously reluctant to enter.

“Possibly. They all smell like that, in my experience.”

“Really?” Jarod appeared to be digesting the information. “Why?”

“I don’t know. They aren’t cleaned as regularly as they should be, there aren’t enough funds allotted to do so, people are careless or stupid or malicious. I don’t know, Jarod. Just go in and try to breathe through your mouth.” 

Jarod nodded and walked into the public restroom and into a stall. As Skinner stood in front of the urinal, relieving his abused bladder, he listened to Jarod’s exploration of the graffiti.

“Kilroy was here. Who was Kilroy and why would he want someone to know he was here?”

“I don’t know.”

“For a good time call Terri - and there is a phone number with an Arizona area code. Could we call her?”

“No.”

“Dave gives great head. What does that mean? Does he sculpt busts of people? There isn’t a phone number here, why would he bother to advertise and not -”

“Jarod, give me a break here.” 

Jarod looked out at Skinner. “Do you require assistance?”

"No! Damn it, Jarod, would you quit fooling around and hurry up?"

He zipped himself quickly, narrowly diverting an injury and busied himself at the sink while Jarod relieved himself, silently reading more of the graffiti. Jarod felt himself being watched and turned toward the other man while putting himself back together.

"That's okay," Jarod told Skinner agreeably. "You don't need to wait for me."

Skinner gave Jarod a wry smile. "It's no trouble. You just take your time." 

He watched as Jarod washed up, ready for any tricks, but the man was apparently holding to his word and not causing any trouble. Jarod looked around for something to dry his hands on and found nothing. With a shrug he wiped them on the legs of his jeans and headed out the door, Skinner on his heels.

The men were halfway to the van when Jarod caught sight of four women who were taking pictures of each other in front of a decorative fountain that had been erected to entice tourists into stopping. Skinner glanced at the women and shook his head in wonder over the waste of film. He was about to comment on it when Jarod suddenly veered toward them and called out,  
instantly capturing their attention. He reached for the back of Jarod's shirt to stop him, but it was too late.

"Hello, ladies," Jarod greeted, his long legs taking him to them in a matter of seconds. He heard a soft curse behind him and smiled. "Would you like me to take a picture so you could all be in it together?"

The women smiled broadly at the tall, handsome man and the one with the camera handed it over quickly as she and her friends giggled and blushed.

"Now, you all group up there..." Jarod directed them with hand movements until he had them in just the right spot before he took the picture. He could feel Skinner coming closer, trying not to draw any more attention to himself.

"Perfect!" Jarod announced as he moved to the group and handed the camera back to the woman he'd appropriated it from. He stepped into the middle of the group as they all started talking to him and he looked back and smiled at Skinner who was silently fuming.

Skinner watched Jarod ingratiate himself into the group then begin to walk with them back toward the rest area. His prisoner was happily escaping and there was nothing he could do about it. Unless....

Jarod had just suggested to the delighted women that he might need a ride when he heard Skinner come up behind them.  
"There you are, lover," Skinner called, taking Jarod by the arm. "I was looking all over for you."

He turned Jarod around and pulled him forward into a bruising kiss. Shocked, Jarod's mouth dropped open and Skinner took advantage of it by thrusting his tongue past the younger man's teeth and wrapping his free arm around the slim waist. He felt Jarod tense, then relax, then tense again, but he didn't stop until he heard one of the women mutter something about 'all the good one's' as the group moved away.

Skinner finally pulled back, yanking his gun from his waistband and shoving the barrel under Jarod's ribcage before the other man could reorient himself. "I warned you, Jarod," Skinner growled. "Never say I didn't warn you."

Jarod gulped in air, catching his breath after the kiss. "I didn't expect that," he mumbled, more to himself than to Skinner.

"Why should you?" Skinner pushed Jarod in the direction of the van. The other man stumbled a bit, then walked willingly.

"I'm a - I usually am a better judge of people. Of their possible actions." Jarod paused to look at Skinner. "I may have underestimated you. I won't do that again."

Skinner, wondering what Jarod had really been going to say, did not fail to hear the warning in Jarod's words. "I appreciate that, Jarod. Understand that I don't plan on giving you another  
chance."

A corner of Jarod's mouth quirked in a wry smile. "Too bad." 

Skinner gestured with his gun to the vehicle. "Get in." And all the while he was securing Jarod via the cuffs, climbing into the driver's seat, starting the van and getting back on the highway, Skinner wondered exactly what the other man had meant by that.

 

Jarod was delighted with drive-through fare, though Skinner personally loathed it. Still, there was something mesmerizing about a man in his mid-thirties who was so excited about the concept of Chicken McNuggets, let alone fries and a milkshake.   
An hour past the dinner that Skinner had hoped would energize him, he knew that he had to get off the road and get some sleep. Glancing back at Jarod, Skinner noted that the man's eyes were closed, though his face had not slack in sleep. 

Skinner made a decision and turned the van off the highway, more rapidly than the exit advised. The jerk startled Jarod, who blinked and tried to raise his hand to rub his face, only to remember that his hands had been recuffed behind him after he'd eaten.

"Where are we?"

"Kansas." Skinner pulled into a motel courtyard. "Stay here. No fuss."

"No pain." Jarod yawned elaborately, and watched the burly man stride stiffly to the office. He tested the cuffs, and decided to wait. It looked like he would be getting another chance soon.

 

Skinner tossed the room key in his hand as he headed back to the van. He was supposed to be avoiding public places and using the camping gear he'd been given, but it was still another fifty miles to the nearest campground and there was no way he was going to drive that far then set up the equipment by himself. He stopped beside the van and looked at the key consideringly. He could always make his prisoner set up the camp. Of course, that would mean uncuffing him and Skinner did not relish the thought of chasing him through the woods at night. 

Jarod looked up guiltily when the side door slid open and Skinner glared at him as the light from a lamppost illuminated the van.

"What the hell are you doing?" Skinner demanded as he climbed into the van. He looked at Jarod who was contorted into something resembling a pretzel. In attempting to get his cuffed arms in front of him, he had gotten as far as freeing his hips and one leg before Skinner had returned. Jarod shrugged his shoulders and pulled his other leg free then presented his cuffed wrists to his captor.

"I haven't tried that in a long time. I wanted to see if I could still do it," Jarod explained simply. A completely innocent look transformed his appearance into that of a child. "I wasn't trying to escape. Really."

Skinner took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He now had a headache the size of Texas and a prisoner who though he was Houdini. Could this night possibly get worse? He put his glasses in his shirt pocket and grabbed the chain between the cuffs, roughly jerking Jarod toward him. 

"I can see that you think this is some kind of game, boy," Skinner ground out between clenched teeth.

"No, I--" Jarod started to deny it but Skinner twisted the cuffs until the grimace of pain on Jarod's face told him he had the man's attention.

"I have warned you...what? Four, maybe five times?" Skinner demanded to know. "I'm used to giving one warning. One! Now, I don't know what is so damned important about you or this ...'Centre' you keep mentioning, but I've had enough!" Gripping the cuffs tighter, Skinner backed out of the van, dragging his quiescent prisoner with him.

Jarod was watching the older man intently. He had never seen anyone become so furious so quickly. He was thinking he should be afraid of the man, then realized, at this moment, he was. When Skinner shoved him up against the van, then leaned in to grab the Halliburton case and a small carryall, Jarod didn't even try to run.

"Room 1013. Move it." 

Jarod turned and stumbled towards the L-shaped motel, changing direction only once when Skinner grunted a command. Standing patiently by the door while Skinner unlocked it, Jarod tried to rationalize his own behavior. He couldn't. The physical presence of this man was so overwhelming that he felt taller than Jarod knew he was.

"In." 

Skinner was still angry at this tall, dark haired man, whose maddening ways so reminded him- No. This man was a criminal, a thief, a killer, and he was bringing him to - what? The ragged justice of that black lunged bastard? The bitterness of the deal he had made marked Skinner's face, unknowingly causing Jarod to tense.

Trying not to draw the lightning again, Jarod slipped into the room as soon as the door was open and walked several paces inside. He turned to face Skinner, deliberately dropping his own broad shoulders to make himself look as non-threatening as possible.

"Come here."

Jarod obeyed immediately and held his hands out in reply to Skinner's curt gesture. 

"Here's the game plan, Jarod. You take care of your necessities in the bathroom. I cuff you to the bed. You sleep. You don't get hurt. Any questions?"

"No. No, sir." Jarod repressed a sigh of relief as his left hand was uncuffed. 

"Now, strip." At Jarod's start of surprise, Skinner added. "I don't want you to think you can just walk out of here."

As Jarod pulled the shirt over his head, Skinner caught his smile and grunted. "What's so amusing?"

"Nudity." Jarod toed off his shoes and undid his belt. "It doesn't bother me. In fact, I find the taboos against it extremely puzzling." He unzipped his jeans, sliding them past slim hips. "For example, why is it that men find it uncomfortable to be nude together?" Gathering his clothes, he laid them neatly on a chair, and caught an odd expression on Skinner's face.

"Not all men do, Jarod." Skinner motioned to the bathroom, trying to keep his eyes averted and failing miserably. "Get moving."

"Can I take a shower?" Jarod asked as he made his way across the room.

Skinner sighed heavily, not wanting to agree but not having the heart to refuse. The next four days would be spent in out of the way campgrounds and the confines of the van. At least they should start out smelling halfway decent. Jarod had stopped in the doorway, waiting for an answer.

"If you don't try to escape down the drain," Skinner agreed. As the words left his lips, another thought came to him and he quickly crossed the room and brushed past Jarod to look in the bathroom. A window. Damn. Someone up there was out to get him, he just knew it. He was being punished for making that deal with Cancerman.

"Problem?" Jarod asked, suppressing the grin that he knew would infuriate the older man.

Skinner bit back his response and smiled calmly as he turned toward Jarod.

"No problem," he replied, his tone belying his mood. He turned sideways as he came back through the cramped doorway where Jarod still stood, his hand accidentally brushing the naked man's hip. Skinner chose to ignore it as he kept walking. "Just leave the door open." He swore he heard a chuckle as he gathered up the clothes Jarod had left on the chair, but he chose  
to ignore that as well.

It wasn't more than five minutes before Jarod came out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower with a towel around his waist. Skinner looked up briefly from reading the local paper that he'd found beside the bed.

"I thought you said nudity didn't bother you," he remarked, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

"It doesn't," Jarod replied, looking around the room for his clothes and not seeing them. "It seemed to bother you, however. I thought this would make you more comfortable."

Skinner dropped the paper and crossed the room. Without a word he grabbed the cuff that still hung from Jarod's right wrist and dragged him to a heavy rocking chair in the corner of the room. Securing the cuff around the ornate arm of the rocker, Skinner announced he was going to take a shower of his own and Jarod was to stay put.

"And just so you don't get any ideas..." Skinner yanked the towel away before shoving Jarod into the chair. "I'm leaving the door open and I'll be checking on you, so don't -"

"- try anything. I know." The cool air of the room was chilling Jarod's damp skin and he pulled a knee up to his chest to help warm himself, unwittingly giving the other man a very clear view.

Forcing himself to look away, Skinner shucked off his own clothes. He was conscious of Jarod's eyes upon him. It made Skinner feel as if he was a new species of insect being observed by an entomologist. The thought of Jarod watching his every move, attempting to understand his motives and his innermost self, was infuriating to Skinner. It was also, suddenly, arousing. Skinner dropped his clothes on the bureau, and walking into the small bathroom, reached into the shower and turned on the water. 

Before stepping into the stall he glanced back at Jarod, who now had both knees pressed to his chest, and was vigorously rubbing his shins with his free hand to warm them. Jarod's eyes were fixed on Skinner's body and as he looked at the younger man, Jarod raised his gaze up to Skinner's face. 

Skinner couldn't read the other man's expression. It wasn't simple curiosity, not anger, nor dislike. There was an intentness that disturbed Skinner and he broke the look by stepping under the water, leaving the shower curtain open, so he could maintain a watch on his prisoner. For a moment, Skinner merely enjoyed the pure physical pleasure of standing under the warm water and letting it sluice down his body. Taking the remains of the small cake of soap that Jarod had left, Skinner began to lather his skin, glancing occasionally at the other man. Jarod was still staring at him.

Perversely, Skinner's anger subsided, left by a grim amusement. If he wants to watch, I'll give him something to look at, he decided. He did not, however, examine his motives very carefully. Instead, he began to soap himself more slowly, teasingly. Slippery with suds, one hand brushed through the mat of hair on his chest, stroking his nipples until they became erect. The other hand was carefully soaping his stomach, swirling lower and lower with each stroke. He turned so that he faced Jarod, and through slitted eyes, watched the man respond to his blatant provocation.

As Jarod put one foot back on the floor, Skinner bit back a grin then soaped his hands lavishly, and began to clean his genitals. Holding his cock, he stroked lather down the length of it. Up and down he stroked, and his member became dark and engorged with blood.

Jarod was fingering his own cock in response. His head was resting on the back of the chair now, and he was watching Skinner through his eyelashes, lips slightly parted. When Skinner began handling his balls, Jarod mimicked the movement, the muscles in his thighs jumping.

For a moment their eyes met again, and a moment was enough. Barely rinsing the suds from his body, Skinner flipped off the shower and stepped quickly into the bedroom, standing before Jarod.

Tentatively, Jarod put out a hand and touched the head of Skinner's erect cock. A drop of pre-ejaculate glistened on his finger.

"Jarod." Skinner's voice was gruff and strained. "Touch me. Now."

Jarod's eyes flicked up and met the other man's. "I'm not sure what. . ."

"I didn't give you a choice. Do it." The irritations of the day overcame any urge of mercy on Skinner's part. "Touch me." He stepped closer to the other man and clamped powerful hands on Jarod's shoulders.

As the iron grip clamped down on him, Jarod jerked in the chair, his head snapping up and back against the solid headrest. The resounding crack of scull on wood made Skinner cringe and release his hold on the other man.

"Geez, I'm sorry, Jarod," Skinner found himself automatically apologizing. "I thought you knew I was here."

Jarod was rubbing the back of his head, his eyes screwed shut in pain, when the words finally registered. His eyes snapped open and looked at the man standing in front of him wearing a concerned expression, and a pair of jeans? Damn. Jarod groaned in frustration and rubbed his aching head again. Another fantasy, shot to hell.

"Let me see it," Skinner ordered, his hands gripping the sides of Jarod's head while he pulled him forward.  
Unfortunately for Jarod, his head ended up in Skinner's crotch while the older man felt the goose-egg that had already formed.

"You're going to have a nice headache, if you don't already." He released Jarod's head and dug in his pocket for the cuff key.

"Is that your medical opinion?" Jarod asked, trying to keep his eyes on the cuffs and not on the piece of anatomy that was now at eye level.

Skinner emitted a short laugh as the cuff came free. "Not medical, just the voice of experience." He snapped the open end of the cuff to his own left wrist, completely missing the distressed look on Jarod's face.

"I, uh, thought you were cuffing me to the bed."

Skinner was pulling back the blankets while suppressing a yawn. "Nothing to hook you to. You're stuck with me." He turned and smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "At least I know you won't be leaving without me."

Jarod shook his head and looked away as Skinner shucked his jeans before jerking on the cuffs. "Okay, boy. Climb in. I hope you don't kick in your sleep."

Jarod reluctantly got into bed and moved over to the edge before pulling the blanket up to his chin. He had his head turned toward the wall but knew the second Skinner joined him as the weight shifted on the old mattress.

Skinner looked over at his prisoner and almost had to laugh. If he were any closer to the edge of the bed, he'd fall out.   
"Don't worry. You're virtue is safe with me," Skinner told him, knowing it was a lie. It was just a damn shame that he had to turn that man, and his body, over to Cancerman in three days. A damn shame indeed. 

 

The room was still bathed in darkness when Skinner awoke the next morning. Disoriented in the strange surroundings, it took him a moment to remember where he was, why, and with whom. When he remembered the last part, he suddenly realized why he was so damn comfortable at the moment. Sometime during the night, Jarod had rolled to his left side, taking his right arm and Skinner with him. Skinner now lay on his back with his left arm draped over Jarod's side and his hand resting on the other man's warm belly.

Skinner turned his head carefully, not wanting to disturb the scene while he considered his next move. He experimentally stretched his fingers and found he was too far away to 'accidentally' touch the thick cock that had followed him into his dreams last night. It had definitely been a bad idea to make the guy strip, but he'd been looking forward to it since the scuffle in the stairwell. 

The adrenaline rush, coupled with the hard body that he'd unceremoniously slammed against the wall, had been a huge turn-on. He hadn't felt anything like that since he'd beat the crap out of Krycek and tossed his butt onto the balcony. He smiled at that thought. To this day, Mulder still thought Alex had spent the night in the cold. His hot-shot agent never noticed Alex was clean shaven and smelling of soap the next morning.

Jarod was awake the second he felt the other man's hand move. He forced his breathing to remain slow and deep while he waited to see how far those fingers could reach. The interrupted fantasy he'd been enjoying last night had left behind a lot of conflicting emotions. He wasn't certain now if this feeling, this need, was real, or if it was just another simulation being run by his subconscious and dragging his body along for the ride. 

Regardless of the reason, Jarod's heightened curiosity would not be sated until he engaged in a few real-life simulations. Pretending to stretch in his sleep, Jarod rolled onto his back and moved his hand, and Skinners hand, to rest on his muscular abdomen. Turning his head away from the other man, Jarod feigned sleep and waited.

Skinner froze the second Jarod started to move, afraid he'd wakened his captive. He felt the warm body move against him then his hand was pulled along as Jarod got comfortable on his back. As the younger man settled in and continued to sleep, Skinner smiled as he realized where his lucky hand had ended up. Very carefully, he moved his fingers until they made contact with the warm flesh that had been occupying his mind for the last 20 hours. 

Jarod's breathing was almost non-existent as he felt Skinner's hand close around his cock. The sensation was so completely different than he had imagined, he forgot he was supposed to be asleep and shifted to give the other man better access. As soon as he moved, however, Skinner pulled back as if he'd been scalded and sat up in bed, reaching for the cuff key under his side of the mattress.

"What are you doing?" Jarod's voice rough with sleep and frustration.

Skinner grasped the key tightly as he unlocked the cuff from his wrist and motioned for Jarod to get up. "Time to rise and shine," Skinner announced with false cheer. "We have a lot of ground to cover."

Still confused, Jarod allowed himself to be dragged from bed by the cuff and seated once again in the rocker. Skinner snapped the open cuff to the arm of the rocker and without a backward glance, grabbed his clothes off the end of the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

As the door clicked shut, Skinner leaned back against it and closed his eyes. "Well, that was smooth," he berated himself, dropping his clothes to the floor. He turned his head and looked at his flushed face in the mirror. He hardly recognized the man reflected back at him. Three days ago he'd been in his office, minding his own business, and now, here he was, holding a stranger prisoner while attempting to have his way with the man. He shook his head in disgust and moved to the shower. Maybe a little cold water would turn his brain on and his libido off.

 

In less than ten minutes he was clean, dressed, and ready to keep his hands to himself. He was talking to Jarod as he opened the bathroom door.

"If you've been good, I'll give you your clothes back and--" he stopped abruptly, looking around the room in confusion. The empty room. "Son of a bitch!" Skinner yanked open the closet where he had stashed Jarod's clothes on a shelf and found it empty as well. Spinning around, he looked to the rocker where the cuffs were still hanging from the arm, the part that should have held his prisoner was still locked in vacant circle, mocking him.

Pulling his gun from his belt holster, Skinner yanked open the door and ran out to the parking lot, scanning the area with a trained eye. Taking into consideration time to escape and dress, Jarod had at least a five minute head start; he could be anywhere. Then, with sudden clarity, Skinner knew exactly where his escapee was.

 

Jarod silently congratulated himself as the finicky lock on the van clicked and the door slid open. He was reaching inside for the DSA case when he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. Jarod didn't have a chance to turn before something resembling a freight train slammed into his back, propelling him into the van and knocking the air from his lungs.  
Skinner jumped into the van, landing on top of the gasping man. Grabbing Jarod by the shoulder, he flipped him onto his back, slamming him flat on the floor, his head barely missing the wheel-well. Through a red haze, Skinner watched himself, seemingly from outside his body, as he pulled Jarod up by his shirtfront and struck him repeatedly.

Jarod barely had time to pull a breath into his lungs before the first blow hit, catching him across the left side of his face and snapping his head to the side. The next several punches in his chest and stomach were enough to jump-start his basic survival instincts and he reacted automatically, his left arm coming up to protect his face as he swung with his right, catching Skinner in the mouth. It wasn't a hard punch, but it was enough to make the older man pause for a moment so Jarod could yank free of the death grip on his shirt and pull himself toward the door. He thought, for a moment, that he was going to be able to escape, but Skinner noticed his prey was moving and pounced.

 

It was the taste of blood in his mouth that finally got through to Skinner a few minutes later. He blinked and looked around the van in confusion. The last thing he recalled was coming out of the bathroom and finding Jarod had -- Jarod? He looked around again then noticed the lump on the floor beside him. He poked at it in the faint light and was surprised when it groaned. Skinner reached for the roof light and snapped it on, his eyes going to the floor where Jarod lay, face down and motionless.

"Oh, shit," Skinner hissed, angry with himself for losing control like that. He didn't do it often, but when he did, nothing good ever came of it. He put one hand on Jarod's shoulder and the other on his hip then turned his punching bag over. He expected to see blood and wasn't disappointed. 

Skinner looked out the still open van door and noticed activity in the parking lot and the increased visibility. The sun was coming up and people were on the move, which is what he needed to do. He pulled the van door closed then stepped over Jarod to dig in one of the boxes. He hadn't thought he'd need this particular piece of equipment, but now he was glad his contact had insisted upon it. Pulling it free, Skinner turned back to his unconscious prisoner and worked quickly to secure him. Once finished, he ran back to the hotel room, gathered his belongings and dropped the key in the overnight slot at the front desk. In less than five minutes he was back in the van, ready to get this nightmare over with.

 

Jarod returned to consciousness slowly and reluctantly, not wanting to face Skinner again. He hadn't planned on trying to escape this morning, but had been embarrassed after the fiasco in bed and wanted to get away as quickly as possible. Well, so much for that. Not only was he still embarrassed and still a prisoner, he was now in a great deal of pain which was really going to hinder any future departure plans. 

He opened his eyes and looked around, knowing he'd see nothing new. He tried to move his arms and found them to be tightly secured behind him, but not with the cuffs that he had gone to such great lengths to break free of this morning. It seemed his captor wasn't going to take that chance again. Jarod looked down at the heavy leather belt that now encircled his waist before tugging experimentally at the thick, padded cuffs that were attached to it with a very short chain. There was no way his little trick would work to get out of this, if he even had the stomach to try it again.

Skinner drove in stony silence and made no move to check on Jarod as he started to bump around in the back. He was, however, relieved that the man was finally awake. After stopping the flow of blood from a cut above his prisoner's eye, he had given himself a deadline of nine a.m. before he was going to stop and find a doctor. But, now that Jarod was awake, with twenty minutes to spare, he could keep going and avoid public contact.

 

Three hours later, Skinner still hadn't heard a word from the back. He had glanced in the mirror a few times when he heard Jarod fidgeting around but as soon as Jarod knew he was being watched, he'd stopped moving. Skinner finally spotted the exit he'd been waiting for and slowed the van as he turned onto the dirt road. Well, 'road' wasn't exactly a good word for it; it was more of a wide trail that led to a lake, a few miles from the prying eyes of civilization. On weekends the lake would be full of fishermen, but during the week it was completely deserted; just what Skinner was looking for.

Jarod looked toward his driver curiously as he felt the paved highway give way to the bumpy road. He sat up as straight as he could but still couldn't see where they were going. Not that it mattered; he could tell by the sun coming in through the passenger window that they were still headed toward Delaware, and that was enough for now. Jarod shifted his weight, trying to relieve the pressure on his arms, but it was no use. He now wished he'd handled things differently this morning. If he had, he might not be trussed up like a wild animal at the moment.

A few minutes later the van came to a stop near one of the lakes more secluded picnic areas. Skinner hopped from the driver’s side and stretched, taking in the large expanse of glistening water and the clean air. He'd been here once before, a few years earlier, and never thought he'd return, especially under these circumstances. With that thought reminding him exactly why he was here, Skinner turned and pulled open the side door, flooding the inside with sunlight.

Jarod closed his eyes against the unexpected visual onslaught and leaned over so his face was in the shadows again.

"Come on, Jarod. Out," Skinner ordered as he reached inside and grabbed Jarod by the arm. He was surprised when Jarod allowed himself to be pulled from the van without a word or a struggle. The beating he took must have made quite an impression on the younger man. Skinner guided his captive to stand against the driver’s door and commanded him to stay. Jarod nodded his head once then looked out over the lake while Skinner climbed into the van and quickly located the items he needed.

Skinner was almost surprised to see Jarod hadn't moved an inch from where he's been told to stand. He thought it over for a moment and decided it could mean one of two things; either he'd beaten some sense into the man, or he was planning another escape. Skinner fervently hoped that it was the former.

Jarod watched Skinner jump out of the van with several packages in his hands and head for the grill that was left for weekend picnickers. He was still standing where he'd been left when Skinner turned back to look at him. 

"Well? Come one if you're planning on eating lunch. Otherwise, you can get back in the van and wait for me," Skinner instructed gruffly as he poured a small amount of charcoal into the grill. He was watching Jarod out of the corner of his eye as the younger man decided what to do. Both options had sounded like orders and they were grating on Jarod's nerves. No matter what he did,it would be something that Skinner wanted.

In the end, it was Jarod's empty stomach that made the decision for him. He wandered over to the picnic table and leaned against the end, watching as Skinner took something out of a small cooler and set it on the grill before adding three more to it. 

"What is that?"

Skinner looked up quickly, puzzled by the question, then followed Jarod's gaze back to the grill. "You mean the hot-dogs?" He looked back to Jarod who had a decidedly disgusted look on his face. "What are you, a vegetarian?"

Jarod grimaced as the meat started to sizzle.

"No, but I may turn into one if you're going to be eating dog."

Skinner started to groan at the old, not even slightly funny, joke then suddenly realized Jarod was not kidding. The poor guy was even looking a little green around the gills.

"It's not dog, Jarod, it's beef. These are all beef. Hot-dogs are just what they're called because of...well, never mind why, just trust me. It's beef," Skinner repeated firmly.

Jarod seemed to consider this for a minute and Skinner was glad to see he looked somewhat convinced. "If it's beef, then why aren't they called 'hot-cow's'?" Jarod asked, still trying to figure this one out.

Skinner sighed as he turned the meat to cook on the other side. "Would you eat something called a hot-cow?"

Jarod looked Skinner in the eye and replied with a straight face. "No, and I don't think I want to eat this, either."

"Too bad, Jarod, because that's what's on the menu and," he added, taking the food from the grill, "it's done, so have a seat, because you are definitely eating this."

Jarod watched Skinner put the meat in the buns and add mustard and ketchup before taking a bite of his lunch.

"Didn't you forget something?" Jarod asked, moving his arms to show he was still restrained.

Skinner shook his head as he swallowed. "Nope. I told you before, that was your last chance." He held the food up to Jarod's mouth and smiled. "Eat."

 

Twenty minutes later Skinner put the extra food and charcoal into the van then gestured for Jarod to follow him as he headed off toward the trees beside the lake. He looked back once to make sure Jarod was still with him, all the while trying to decide if this was one of his better ideas. He wanted to change his mind, but that would look bad. He'd warned Jarod repeatedly to behave himself and be a nice prisoner, but the man refused to cooperate. It was his own fault.  
Jarod followed until Skinner stopped a few feet into the tree line and began to unzip his jeans.

"Pit stop?" Jarod asked, suddenly a little uncomfortable with the situation. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"Yep," Skinner nodded his head as he urinated into the bushes and tried not to think about what would happen next. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Jarod trying to look anywhere but at him and almost laughed. Someone had gotten shy in a hurry. Skinner finished up and quickly put himself back together before turning around.

"Jarod?" He waited for the other man to look at him before gesturing toward the bushes.

Jarod took a hesitant step forward then stopped. "Uncuff me?" he asked, trying to sound like it didn't matter to him one way or the other, but knowing differently. He watched dejectedly as Skinner shook his head.

"You've proven you can't be trusted, Jarod," Skinner admonished, his voice low. "Now, do you have to go or not, because we don't have all day. Never say--"

"..you didn't warn me," Jarod completed the familiar sentence. "I know." He reluctantly moved to stand beside Skinner who was beginning to look a little impatient. The last thing he wanted was to be on the receiving end of that man's temper again.

Jarod tried to appear nonchalant as his jeans were unsnapped, but the sound of his zipper going down got his blood flowing and his heart rate up. He glanced at Skinner then looked away quickly as the other man's hand dipped inside his boxers and emerged with -- Jarod glanced down then briefly closed his eyes in relief. Thank God, he wasn't hard.

Skinner's mouth went dry the second he had the warm flesh in his hand. He wondered vaguely who was being punished here; Jarod or himself? He waited for what seemed like an eternity while his prisoner relieved himself and felt a stab of guilt again. As Jarod finished, Skinner zipped him back up then turned him around, nudging him back to the van.

"Next time you have to go that bad, let me know before you're ready to burst."

Jarod glanced back, prepared to comment on the implausibility of bursting, then realized it was another one of those figures of speech that were always getting him in trouble. As he trudged along, those two words kept rebounding in his head;next time.

Stopping alongside the van, Jarod hesitated before getting in then turned to look at Skinner. "I don't suppose I could ride up front?" he asked hopefully. The floor of the van, although carpeted, was still hard and Jarod was already aching all over.

Skinner seemed to consider it for a moment then, much to Jarod's regret, shook his head.

"I'd have to cuff you in front and--"

"I can't be trusted," Jarod finished the familiar sentence. "I had more freedom while I was a prisoner at the Centre," he added sarcastically.

"Then you should have stayed put and saved us both the trouble," Skinner snapped, once again irritated with the man.  
Jarod bit back his reply and climbed into the van, the door sliding closed as soon as he cleared the tract. Seconds later the driver-side door opened and Skinner got in without a glance toward his captive. Jarod took note of the non-action with considerable interest. Whenever he pissed him off, Skinner reacted by ignoring him. Smiling to himself, Jarod found a somewhat comfortable position against the sleeping bags and closed his eyes. It was time to run a few simulations.

 

Skinner glanced at the road sign and sighed in relief as they passed from Kansas into Missouri. If he stuck to the new schedule he'd developed after lunch, he could get rid of his 'package' six hours earlier than planned. As quickly as that thought came to him, it was followed by a feeling of disappointment that made him grimace. Why wouldn't he want this trip from hell over with? Jarod had been a pain in the ass since he'd picked him up in Colorado and the situation wasn't  
improving. He should have stuck to the original plan and never stopped at that motel the first night. That's where his trouble began. No, that was wrong. His trouble began when he decided to get cute and make Jarod strip. Skinner shook his head at the memory. Talk about a mistake. It took all his control to keep from tossing the poor guy onto the bed and making him scream. Not exactly what Cancer Man had in mind when he told Skinner to 'stay on top of Jarod'.

A series of deep groans broke through his thoughts and he frowned, wondering what was wrong now. The winding road held his attention at the moment and as he slowed for a sharp curve he swore he heard Jarod mumbling something, but he couldn't quite catch it.

Reaching up, Skinner adjusted the rear view mirror to his favorite position; the one that reflected his prisoner back at him. The sight made him unconsciously lick his lips, his eyes lingering longer than they should. Jarod lay back against the rolled up sleeping bags, knees pulled up and feet spread apart for balance as he arched his back, apparently to get some of the kinks out. 

"Oh, yes..." Jarod's voice carried clearly this time, low and dripping with pleasure. "Almost there, come on...."  
Skinner snapped his eyes back to the road, determined to ignore the man, but Jarod's actions apparently culminated in the desired, back-popping result a moment later and a satisfied groan reached Skinner's ears. Feeling his cock respond to the groan as well, he knew there was only one way to get this off his mind and that was to just get it over with.

Jarod collapsed back onto the floor with a smile as he felt the van start to slow. It seemed he'd chosen the correct simulation to run after all. A sudden apprehension gripped him as the tires hit the soft shoulder of the road. His experience in this area consisted of a few movies he'd seen on cable and one book he'd begun reading by mistake then found himself unable to put down. He sighed as he realized this wasn't going to be the most satisfying moment in his life, but it would bring him one step closer to his freedom, and that was the most important thing at the moment.

The drivers door was open almost before the van had come to a complete stop. Jarod barely had time to blink before the side door slid open just wide enough for Skinner to squeeze through before it was closed again.

Skinner grabbed Jarod by his shirtfront and pulled him upright. "Having fun back here," he growled, his face mere inches from the younger mans.

Jarod tried to swallow but his mouth was suddenly dry. Perhaps this hadn't been one of his better ideas after all.  
Skinner saw a myriad of emotions cross Jarod's face in a matter of seconds. Everything from fear to lust was displayed, but it was the fear that really got Skinner's blood flowing. The power he had over this bound man was a strong aphrodisiac and there wasn't an antidote in sight.

"You've been playing games, Jarod," Skinner chastised him, his voice softening as he relaxed his grip, allowing Jarod to gradually fall back against the sleeping bags again. "You've been playing a very, very dangerous game, and it's about time you learned the consequences."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jarod finally managed to get out. It was suddenly very warm in the van and common sense was starting to scream at him to stop, but the voices were silenced as Skinner leaned closer and brushed Jarod's lips with his own before pulling back. Jarod stared at him a moment then let his body choose its own path. Not giving himself time to change his mind, Jarod initiated a second, less tentative encounter and was immediately engulfed in a heated kiss that sent all thought and reason out the window. 

Skinner was surprised when Jarod returned his brief kiss so readily, but as he now fought for control over the situation, his tongue dueling for space in the other mans mouth, he knew one thing for certain; he was damned if he did and damned if he didn't, so he might as well enjoy what he had. Skinner cupped one hand behind Jarod's neck, drawing him closer and wishing he could feel the other mans hands on him, but that was too dangerous. It was the lack of oxygen a few moments later that finally made him pull back, already feeling the inevitable swelling of bruised lips and reveling in the sensation.

Jarod let his head drop back as Skinner broke off the kiss. He was desperately trying to remember that this was work, but three decades of isolation made him crave any human contact and his body eagerly responded. When he felt the insistent tug on the front of his jeans, Jarod shut off the part of his brain that was trying to stop him, leaving those thoughts for another time. As the snap popped free and his zipper was pulled down, Jarod was not surprised to feel knuckles scraping against the fabric covering his straining erection. Frustrated that Skinner was taking too long, Jarod pulled against the restraints on his wrists, eliciting a smile from the older man.

"Patience," Skinner admonished his calm voice in counterpoint to the frantic actions of his hands as he yanked off Jarod's shoes and socks. Once the path was clear, he quickly pulled the jeans down and off, leaving the cotton boxers as the last barrier. His hands now on the elastic waistband, Skinner looked to Jarod's eyes. "Last chance."

Jarod pulled at the leather cuffs again, his teeth clenched. "If this is how you plan to kill me, do it now. Otherwise, get on with it!"

The words had no sooner left his mouth before the boxers were gone and his legs were being spread wide. Closing his eyes, Jarod let his head drop back to the bed rolls and submersed himself in the moment. Already hard, he felt his abdomen tighten at the first touch as Skinner launched a duel assault, one hand on his cock and the other roaming freely over the rest of his lower body. The warm, firm grip began to slacken and Jarod was just about to protest but the ability to speak was suddenly lost to him as he felt a wet tongue lapping its way up the underside of his erection from root to crown.   
Skinner smiled to himself as the younger man's body jerked under him. This wasn't going to take long at all. He rolled his tongue over the silky head, already slick with pre-cum, and heard a soft squeak escape Jarod's throat and glanced up. Jarod's head was arched back, the tendons in his neck standing out as he strained to control himself. Control was the last thing Skinner wanted the other man to have. With a devilish gleam in his eyes, Skinner began to fondle the heavy balls that were already beginning to draw up in anticipation of release. Enveloping the rock hard cock in his mouth, he sucked gently, trying to keep Jarod from coming too soon, but he knew it was a wasted endeavor as the other man began to instinctively thrust, forcing Skinner to increase his efforts.

Jarod felt his legs begin to cramp in the unfamiliar position, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment. The heat and pressure in his groin had grown quickly, not giving him time to analyze his next move. As the wet mouth moved on him like a vacuum, his body took over from his mind, knowing exactly what it wanted and how to get it. He felt himself begin to thrust upward against an arm suddenly thrown across his hips. The result was immediate as the suckling on his straining member increased dramatically, causing every muscle in his body to contract, sending their collective energy racing to his cock.

Jarod released a choked scream as he was hit with an almost painfully strong orgasm that assaulted his body in waves, lifting his hips from the ground even as Skinner fought to hold him down. Jarod thrust mindlessly as he was milked for every drop and he was vaguely aware that he wasn't breathing, but he didn't care. If he was going to die now, then so be it.  
As the last tremors raced through him, Jarod collapsed onto the carpeted floor, gasping for the air that was now being drawn into his starving lungs. His heart pounded in his ears and he wondered briefly if it could sustain that speed without failing. Eyes still closed, Jarod heard a soft chuckle and felt a hand massaging his spent cock and balls. He weakly shook his head in a plea not to be touched again and was rewarded with another laugh.

"I guess it's been a while, huh, Jarod?" Skinner asked, his voice a little rough. He smiled at the slight nod he received before releasing the other man and moving to sit beside him. He felt a brief stab of guilt as he remembered Jarod had been laying on his bound arms the whole time, but it passed quickly as his eyes took in the muscular T-shirt clad chest as it rose and fell quickly. 

The material was pulled tight enough that Skinner could actually see Jarod's heart pounding. Mesmerized by that, he leaned down and laid his head over the area and listened to the frantic beat of the muscle as it fought to get blood and oxygen to the strained body.

He stayed like that until Jarod's heart slowed to a more reasonable speed and his breathing evened out. Raising his head his eyes met the drowsy gaze of his prisoner.

"I think you've killed me," Jarod stated, eliciting a smile from Skinner.

"That was the tip of the iceberg, Jarod," Skinner replied as he reached into the pocket of his jeans. "There's much more to it and some is even better."

Jarod found it hard to believe there could be more, much less better, but his attention was suddenly captured by the key that had appeared in Skinner's hand.

"I'm going to adjust the belt so your hands are in front." Skinner stared into Jarod's brown eyes, trying to tell him with a look how much he was risking. "Roll over."

Jarod turned quickly, feeling a quick rush of guilt over getting what he wanted. He'd set out to gain a little trust, to get his hands in front, but now wasn't sure if he could go through with the rest of his plan. 

Skinner was prepared for Jarod to attempt an escape in the brief moment when his hands came free and was surprised when the younger man remained still, allowing himself to be re-cuffed and the belt secured with the lock now in back. Skinner tugged on Jarod's arm and rolled him onto his back again, aware of the brief flash of pain as muscles tried to adjust to the change.

Almost embarrassed, Skinner briefly massaged the other man’s arms, relieving the worst of the discomfort. Looking his prisoner over, Skinner grabbed a shirt out of his laundry bag and quickly wiped away a few spots of ejaculate that he'd been unable to swallow. That done, he avoided Jarod's gaze as he redressed his prisoner while already looking forward to the next time those clothes came off.

 

It was an hour before sundown when Skinner stopped for gas at a busy convenience store just outside Riverbend, Indiana. It had been his practice, up until now, to avoid the more populated area's, but he wanted to buy something that would have drawn a little too much attention in a smaller town. Climbing into the back of the van, Skinner dug through a box and pulled out two bandannas before kneeling next to Jarod who was watching him warily. Balling up the first piece of cloth  
Skinner held it up.

"Open your mouth." He expected an argument and felt some suspicion when Jarod complied wordlessly. Skinner stuffed the gag into his prisoner's mouth then folded the second bandanna into a strip, placing it over the gag and tying it behind Jarod's head to keep him from spitting it out.

"Can you breathe?" There was a slight hesitation before the younger man nodded reluctantly. As a last measure against escape, Skinner grabbed a piece of rope and tied Jarod's ankles together before giving him a half smile. "No fuss..."

"Mmf fmnn," Jarod finished through the gag as he watched Skinner hop from the van and the door slid shut with a dull thud. He tried to find a comfortable position, but with his legs tied, that was now all but impossible. At least it was only for a few minutes. He was always tied during the stops where he wasn't allowed outside the van, but this was the first time he'd been gagged. From the sounds of cars and voices nearby, Jarod could hardly blame him. He'd have a hell of a time explaining himself if Jarod decided to yell for help.

 

After fifteen minutes Jarod was beginning to get more than a little uncomfortable. The van was warming up and the gag had effectively soaked all the moisture from his mouth. Jarod remembered a simulation five years earlier when he'd been gagged for hours before becoming sick. In a blind panic, he was barely able to get Sydney to remove the gag before he threw up.  
Even a slight delay at that point could have caused him to vomit into the cloth and asphyxiate himself.

The vivid memory of that moment caused Jarod's stomach to churn and he mentally berated himself for even thinking of it. He tried to put the scene out of his mind but it refused to be ignored, replaying over and over. The pretender began a futile struggle against his restraints, fighting to get air into his lungs as he broke into a sweat born of both warmth and anxiety. While the usually more powerful, rational part of his mind screamed at him to calm down, basic survival instincts pushed him into the area of abject terror.

This was the sight that greeted Skinner as he climbed into the driver’s seat and looked back at Jarod. The other man was on his side, desperately rubbing his face on the carpeted floor, trying to tear the gag off while the rest of his body struggled against the restraints on his arms and legs. Skinner knew what was happening instantly and he dove into the back, grabbing Jarod and pulling him upright so he could get to the knot in the bandanna. 

"Okay, Jarod, calm down," Skinner ordered as he fought the knotted material. It would have been easier if Jarod had actually stopped moving, but by now he was in a full blown panic and was fighting against Skinner as well as everything else.

Unable to get the knot out, Skinner hooked his finger under the cloth and forced it out and down, pulling the balled-up bandanna from Jarod's mouth at the same time.

Jarod started taking deep, gulping breaths of air as soon as his mouth was clear, while still fighting off the nausea that was threatening to overtake him. Skinner pulled Jarod against him, trying to calm him before he hurt himself with his struggles against the cuffs and rope.

As the wall of fear gradually started to subside and his breathing evened out, Jarod realized Skinner was holding him and his legs were no longer bound together. He willed himself to relax into the strong arms and as he did, he felt himself being held even tighter as Skinner absentmindedly rubbed his back.

Skinner smiled as he felt Jarod relax, but the smile was quickly replaced by a frown when he remembered whose fault it was that this had happened; his. He had only intended to be in the store for a few minutes, but it was more crowded than he had expected and he'd wandered around until the aisle he needed to shop in was empty. If he'd been a little longer, or if Jarod had actually become sick, he would have returned to a corpse instead of a physically exhausted prisoner.

When Jarod's breathing finally returned to normal, Skinner reluctantly eased the man back against the sleeping bags and grimaced at his first look at the damage he'd caused.

"What?" Jarod asked hoarsely, not liking the frown on the other man's face.

Skinner reached out to gently touch the rug burn on Jarod's chin. "I have something to put on that when we get to the campground," Skinner replied. He glanced at his watch and smothered the urge to curse. It was an hour to the campground and it would be dark in twenty minutes. Looking back at Jarod, an idea began to take shape. As he returned to the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot, he knew how he was going to get camp set up and assuage his guilty conscience at the same time.

 

Ninety minutes later Skinner was leaning back against a tree stump, gun in hand, while Jarod happily finished pitching the tent in the glow of a full moon. As he watched the other man work,Skinner was also keeping an eye on their dinner as the soup heated up on the camp stove. Skinner had chosen the site furthest from the campground's entrance and there wasn't another soul to be seen. He smiled to himself as he let his mind wander as he watched Jarod pound in the last stake and come toward him. 

"What next?" Jarod asked, anxious for something else to do that was going to keep him unrestrained for a while. He saw Skinner's eyes move toward the hammer he was still carrying and he quickly set it down and stepped away from it.  
Skinner gestured toward the camp stove with his gun and Jarod immediately set about pouring the soup into bowls.

"Isn't it a little warm to be eating soup?" Jarod asked, passing Skinner's meal to him along with a package of crackers.

"It's easy to transport, easy to cook...the perfect camp meal," Skinner replied as he set his weapon on his lap. He glanced from the gun to Jarod and gave him a warning look. "Don't even think about it, Jarod."

"And lose my newfound freedom?" Jarod questioned innocently. "I would never dream of it."

Skinner shook his head as he swallowed his first mouthful of dinner. 

"As soon as you're finished eating, you can kiss your 'newfound freedom' good-bye."

"So I was just slave labor?" Jarod asked good-naturedly. He'd known all along that the only reason he was setting up camp was because Skinner was feeling guilty and this was his way to give Jarod a break without looking like he was giving him a break.

"Just hurry up and eat," Skinner replied as he took his own advice and quickly downed his meal.

Jarod, on the other hand, was taking his time, not anxious to be trussed up again. He knew without looking that Skinner was glaring at him, but he continued to eat slowly, alternating spoonfuls of soup with single bites of cracker. When he was finally finished, Jarod turned getting ready for bed into a big production that included washing with the bottled water, brushing his teeth and a quick trip to the bushes for a pit-stop. By the time he finally headed for the tent, Skinner didn't know whether he still wanted to kiss him or kill him.

Jarod entered the four-man tent and dropped onto one of the sleeping bags, already grinning in anticipation and hoping he hadn't annoyed his captor too much. He had just turned on the battery powered lantern that hung from the tent's main support pole when Skinner entered, cuffs in hand.

"I hope you'll give me a minute to get comfortable before you use those," Jarod bargained as he pulled off his shoes and tossed them to the back of the tent. He didn't receive a reply so he took the non-response as a yes and continued to undress, adding his socks and shirt to the pile before laying back and unsnapping his jeans. As he pulled the zipper down, Jarod raised his feet toward Skinner and smiled invitingly. "Help me out and pull on the legs."

Skinner had been teetering on the edge all day and had just decided that he would definitely not get any further involved with Jarod when he heard those words and his resolve disintegrated.

Tossing the cuffs on the other sleeping bag, Skinner tugged on the pant cuffs, dragging the jeans and boxers off and adding to the pile. He looked down at the dark haired man who had a huge grin on his face.

"Care to join --" Jarod never finished the question, the last words swallowed up by the hungry mouth that was suddenly locked to his own. He let himself sink back onto the thick sleeping bag, the muscular weight on top of him feeling oddly comforting.

The last thing that Skinner wanted at the moment was to comfort this maddening man. Still, as his tongue plundered Jarod’s willing mouth and he felt Jarod’s hands cup the back of his head, he wondered if he hadn’t lost his mind. Then Jarod arched his groin against Skinner’s and rubbed himself there, and all coherent thought fled both men.

“Damn it.” Skinner was still dressed and he knelt, straddling Jarod’s body as he feverishly tried to unbutton his jeans. His hands were knocked away and he met Jarod’s eyes, bright and filled with desire.

“Let me.”

For all his knowledge of medicine, Jarod’s intentions were far from clinical when he freed Skinner’s hard member from the confines of his clothing. He ran his fingers over it, then rocked forward, bringing his mouth to it. Hesitating only a moment, and with Skinner’s hands on his shoulders, holding him up, Jarod licked the drop of moisture that had already appeared on the head of the cock. Remembering how Skinner had previously pleasured him, his reading of porn on the ‘net, and his own imagination of what he would like, Jarod began to lave the other man’s member with his tongue. He explored the shape and size and texture of it as a blind man would a statue. Darting his tongue into the slit, running it along the glans, tracing the vein on the underside, while all the time, Skinner moaned and grasped Jarod’s shoulders in a punishing grip.

Thrusting his hips forward, Skinner pushed his cock into Jarod’s unresisting mouth. “Watch the teeth,” he gasped as he waited for Jarod to adjust to his size. Then he slowly lowered Jarod back onto the sleeping bag, keeping the tip of his cock between Jarod’s lips. Straddling Jarod’s face, he carefully began to pump into his open and willing mouth.

“Suck me,” he ordered hoarsely, and Jarod obeyed, his hands resting on Skinner’s hips guiding the other man’s efforts.  
As Jarod began to improvise with licks and sucks on the down-strokes, Skinner drove in deeper and deeper, until Jarod had finally circumvented his own gag reflex and allowed the head to rest at the back of his throat.

“Okay?”

His head bobbed, signifying assent, and Skinner began to pump into Jarod’s mouth again, less gently. As Jarod gave no sign of distress or choking, his thrusts became harder, less controlled, until something seemed to snap inside the larger man and he fucked Jarod’s mouth mercilessly.

And Jarod took it. When Skinner came, exploding in his throat, Jarod swallowed frantically, trying to take in as much semen as he could, but it ran over his lips and down the sides of his face. He was dimly aware of the other man’s cries of triumph, of his own aching cock, but he concentrated on pleasuring this man, his captor, his - lover?

Pulling out of Jarod’s slack mouth, Skinner felt slight shame. He hadn’t meant to brutalize the other man. Moving to lay beside him, he propped himself up on one elbow, looking at him. Jarod met his eyes, guileless, and Skinner leaned forward and kissed him, tasting himself. He deepened his kiss, and his hand drifted down Jarod’s body, his fingers curling around the hardening flesh he found there. “My turn.”

“Or is it my turn?”

The men smiled at each other briefly, before Skinner began a leisurely exploration of Jarod’s body. God, those lips, the rasp of stubble on Jarod’s jaw, the tender skin of his throat, and Skinner licked and nibbled his way down to the wiry hair of Jarod’s chest. There he licked Jarod’s nipple, then blew on it, enjoying Jarod’s gasp of pleasure and feeling the cock in his hand harden even more.

Following the trail of hair down the firm muscles of the abdomen, Skinner stopped to thrust his tongue into the cup of Jarod’s navel, again and again. Jarod moaned, and stirred, seeking to arch his body, thrust his cock into the restraining hand.

“Shhh. Let me.”

And he subsided, eyes closed, awash on the sensation of having another man touch him intimately, knowingly, in a way that Nia ever had. A part of his mind wondered if it was because only another man could know, then that thought escaped him as Skinner nudged his legs further apart, and began to nibble on the softer skin of his inner thighs. Seeking to minimize distractions, Jarod clenched his fists helplessly on the material of the sleeping bag.

“Ahhhhh.”

“Does this feel good?”

“Yessss.”

“And this?”

Jarod moaned and arched his body, feeling Skinner laugh as his mouth engulfed the painfully hard cock. The silky heat, the tongue, the scrape of teeth across the sensitive skin, was too much, and Jarod came, screaming, into Skinner’s mouth.

After a few parting sucks, Skinner released Jarod’s softening member, and moved back to lie on Jarod’s body. “Good for you?”  
All Jarod could manage was a listless nod of his head.

“Good.” And he moved to lie beside Jarod, his arm hard around his waist, pulling him to spoon in front of him. He released him long enough to pull the other sleeping bag over them, then rubbed Jarod again, on the chest and the belly, a friendly caress. Jarod felt boneless, sated, and he reveled in the hard warmth of the body behind him.

Jarod was on the edge of sleep when he felt the cool metal of the handcuffs slip around his left wrist. He smiled to himself as Skinner closed the cuff with agonizing care, trying to be as quiet as possible. The night had gone well and Jarod was pleased with the outcome. If all went as planned, he would be free by this time tomorrow.

 

Jarod watched Skinner pack the last of the gear into the van and slide the door closed with a resounding thud.

"Forget something?" Jarod asked, looking pointedly at the door.

Skinner looked at the van then Jarod, pretending not to understand for a moment. "Oh, did I lock that already?" he asked. "I guess you can ride up front for a while if you promise to behave yourself."

Jarod smiled innocently as he walked ahead of Skinner to the passenger side and waited to be let in. "I can be very, very good if I try."

"That's an understatement," Skinner muttered to himself as he opened the door.

Jarod climbed in with Skinners assistance and leaned back in the seat. He watched Skinner close the door then walk around the front of the van to the driver’s side. As he got in and started the motor, he became aware of Jarod watching him.

"Problem?" Skinner asked.

Jarod smiled and shook his head. "No. Just...enjoying the view." He turned to look out the passenger window, jumping when a hand came across his lap.

"What--?" Jarod looked down as Skinner grabbed the seat belt, pulling it across Jarod's chest and lap before securing it on the other side of the seat.

"Just making sure you don't go anywhere unexpectedly," Skinner explained vaguely, leaving Jarod to figure out if he was worried about safety or escape.

He put the van in gear and pulled away from the campsite, glancing over at Jarod as they made their way down the dirt road. The man still puzzled him. There was something about him that made Skinner want to...what? Protect him? Maybe it was the way he could be dangerous one moment and childlike the next. Skinner laughed to himself. Who was he kidding? The guy was a devil in bed and had a body that anyone would love to wake up next to every morning. No, this was not something that should be over analyzed. This was business and he had to remember that. On the other hand, they had two more days before Jarod was turned over to the Consortium and Skinner planned to make the most of them. He smiled to himself. Maybe his disastrous trip to the store yesterday wouldn't be wasted after all.

 

Skinner sat, gun in hand, watching Jarod trying to roast marshmallows over the camp stove, but he wasn't having much luck.  
"You're not letting them melt long enough," Skinner admonished as the other man plucked a slightly brown treat from the end of a stick.

Jarod was just about to eat the marshmallow but Skinners words made him stop and examine it closely. "It will burn and melt into a sticky blob if I leave it over the heat any longer," Jarod explained carefully, surprised Skinner couldn't figure that out.

Skinner reached across the space between them and took the stick from Jarod, placing his own marshmallow on the end and holding it over the stove. Jarod watched as the white confection changed to a dark brown, started to smolder then suddenly burst into flames. Skinner turned the stick until there was no sign of white left then quickly blew out the flame.  
"Now try it," he offered, passing the stick back to Jarod who was looking at it skeptically.

"It's burnt."

"It's perfect, try it," Skinner insisted. He watched Jarod pull it off carefully and give it a last look before taking a cautious bite. The outer crust, which had been holding in the melted marshmallow guts, broke apart, spilling its contents into and around Jarod's mouth. The pretender seemed not to notice the mess as he was too intent on enjoying the taste of the burnt sugar. Skinner, on the other hand, was intent on something else. He crawled across the space between them and sat next to Jarod, laughing as the man tried to get the goo off his fingers.

"Look at the mess you've made," Skinner scolded teasingly.

Jarod raised his hand to wipe his mouth but Skinner stopped him. They both froze, looking into each other's eyes for a long moment.

"Let me do it," Skinner whispered hoarsely. He leaned forward, covering Jarod's mouth with his own while he hungrily licked and sucked at the sticky residue.

Jarod opened his mouth at the insistent pressure of Skinners tongue and felt the other man slip inside him. The rest of the marshmallows were forgotten as Jarod dropped the stick and pulled Skinner to him, letting his hands caress the strong back before moving around to his chest. Jarod let his mind wander as his mouth was plundered and insistent hands explored his body, tugging his shirt free and sliding underneath to caress bare skin.

Both men were devouring each other with mouths and hands when a flash of light and the faint sound of an explosion grabbed their attention. They looked up as one to see the northern sky ablaze with flickering lights.

"Illegal fireworks," Skinner muttered, turning his attention back to Jarod. "Always happens this time of year. He took Jarod's face in his hands and tried to turn him away from the display but was unsuccessful. Sighing in resignation, and a little frustration, Skinner leaned back on his arms and watched Jarod watch the impromptu show.

It lasted for about five minutes during which time Jarod's eyes never strayed from the sky and Skinner's eyes never left Jarod's face. There was something about a grown man being so completely enthralled that intrigued him.

"I'll bet you were easy to entertain as a child," Skinner announced as it became apparent that the display was over.

"Do you want to see me as a child?" Jarod asked suddenly. "I can show you."

Skinner lay back in the grass and smiled. "You have pictures in your wallet?"

"I have something better," Jarod declared, trying to keep the eagerness from his voice. This was the perfect time, he was sure of it. All he had to do was convince Skinner he was making a mistake and he'd be free again.

Skinner sat up quickly and grabbed his gun as Jarod suddenly jumped to his feet without warning. He raised his hands as the weapon came to bear on him.

"I was just going to get the DSA's," Jarod explained quickly, realizing too late he'd just made a mistake. The man that had been completely relaxed and suggestible a moment ago was now tense and coiled to strike.

"The what?" Skinner demanded to know as he rose to his feet. Jarod's sudden movement had snapped him out of his sex induced stupor and he was already mentally damning himself.

"The silver case you brought with when you took me," Jarod explained, gesturing toward the open van.

Skinner had forgotten all about that case. "The laptop?" he asked, making sure they were talking about the same thing.

"Well...not exactly," Jarod hedged. "It's more like a tiny movie theater and my life is center stage."

That got Skinners interest up and he gestured Jarod forward, following him to the van and waiting while he retrieved the case. Jarod took the DSA's back to the grassy area and sat down, waiting for Skinner to join him before opening it and flicking it on. Now the only question would be, which DSA should he show the man?

"Well?" Skinner asked, watching Jarod run his fingers over the miniature CD's in the case.

"This is my entire life," Jarod explained. "Almost every moment I spent at the Centre from the time they stole me until I escaped.

"I don't get it?" Skinner said, wanting more of an explanation of what happened at this 'Centre'. He listened closely as Jarod told how he was abducted and raised in near isolation, escaping just over a year earlier and how he was being chased around the country by people who were under orders to bring him back, dead or alive.

Skinner was used to hearing implausible tales, but this was one of the best. Jarod could tell by the look on the man's face that he didn’t believe what he was hearing. Perhaps seeing would be believing.

Jarod pulled a disk from a small pocket in the case's cover and ran his finger along the edge. He had only watched this once, right after Angelo had stolen it from Sydney's desk and sent it to him. Perhaps something more recent than a childhood simulation would have the desired affect.

"This DSA was sent to me a few months ago by someone who was hoping that watching it would stop the nightmares I'd been having." He smiled ruefully as he fed it into the reader. "Instead, it just gave me a nice batch of new one's for a while."  
Skinner was prepared to be less than impressed as the small screen came to life, but the scream from the speaker caught his attention before he recognized the half-naked man being dragged into view. Held firmly between two huge men in suits, Jarod was fighting every step as he was forced toward a gurney on the far end of the room. His insistent voice kept repeating 'no' over and over. Not begging, not pleading, just refusing to cooperate. 

By the time the trio reached their destination, one of the men had become tired of fighting. Spinning Jarod around to face him, the man slammed his fist into the pretender's face, stunning him enough that he was easily lifted onto the gurney. It only took a moment for him to recover and as the men strapped him down, he resumed his fight and the one word defiance against what was being done to him.

Skinner watched the scene continue to unfold as two more men entered, watching dispassionately as Jarod struggled against the restraints that now secured his wrists, chest and legs. The older of the two men retrieved a vile and syringe, sending Jarod into a new wave of panic as he watched the needle sink into his arm before he was slid into what appeared to be a cryogenic tube. As the viewing window began to frost up, his struggles became less frantic then stopped all together, along with the heart monitor. The two men in charge exchanged knowing glances before pulling their guinea pig out and restarting his heart. 

The screen darkened momentarily and Skinner thought it was over, but as it came back on the date advanced by two days and the scene was repeated. This time, Jarod put up less of a fight, his body still trying to recover from the previous assault. When the heart monitor stopped this time, Skinner turned the reader off and stared at the blank screen.

"That is what you are sending me back to," Jarod said, stating the obvious. He looked to the other man's face and found it completely expressionless, but his eyes were in torment.

Skinner ran through all his options and found he had very few. If he let Jarod, a virtual stranger, escape, someone he knew very well could die and he himself might be killed. If he didn't let Jarod go, there was a good chance he would die, but another question kept nagging at him; why go to all the trouble to catch Jarod just to kill him? If that was to be the outcome, why not have Skinner kill the man back in Colorado? He really had no choice at all.

Jarod watched Skinner make his decision and knew by the way the man wouldn't look him in the eye that he'd come out on the wrong end of it.

"I'm sorry, Jarod," Skinner began, but stopped when Jarod held up his hand.

"It was worth a try," Jarod smiled, hating what he was about to do. "I knew from the simulation that it only had a 78 percent chance of succeeding."

That got Skinners full attention. "Simulation?"

"Yes. That is what I do. My alleged 'gift' and the reason I was taken. They call me a 'Pretender' and I'm supposed to be the best there ever was. I can be anything, do anything, pretend...." he shrugged his shoulders, "anything."

As the words sank in, Skinner felt an anger welling up that nearly suffocated him. He looked at Jarod, searching for a lie, but couldn't find one in the smug expression of the younger man.

"You bastard," Skinner growled. He lunged for Jarod who surprised him by dodging his grip and knocking him to the ground face down. Before Skinner could even blink, Jarod was on him and already had produced a rope which he was tying around Skinner's left wrist.

Jarod quickly secured the rope before he could change his mind or before Skinner could escape, either of which was a distinct possibility for a moment. He made short work of the knots, assuring they would stay tied long enough for him to get away, but not indefinitely.

Jarod stood and inspected his handiwork. Skinner continued to struggle for a few minutes, cursing Jarod as he did so. He looked longingly at his gun, laying in the grass just a foot away.

"This was nothing personal, Jarod, until you made it that way," Skinner accused, halting his ineffectual attempts at escape.

"Me?" Jarod asked incredulously. "Who was restrained in the van while someone else enjoyed himself?"

"Aw, you didn't enjoy that?" Skinner asked, feigning hurt feelings. "I did my very best."

Jarod had to smile at that. "You certainly did. And," he continued, getting back to business, "as you said, this is nothing personal. I waited three decades to live my life and I'm not ready to give it up." He lowered his voice. "Not for anyone."

"Okay," Skinner bargained, "we can work something out." He was shaking his head as he said the words. They were hollow and cliché, even to his ears. 

Skinner watched as Jarod tossed some supplies into a backpack and retrieved his DSA's. As he moved to leave, Skinner called to him.

"I have to know," he began, and Jarod stopped. "Was it all a simulation?"

As the sky lit up again, they both turned to watch the fireworks explode in bursts of red and green. Jarod looked back at the man neatly tied up on the ground.

"I think that just about says it all. Don't you?"

 

Fifteen minutes later, at the top of a steep hill, Jarod stopped to catch his breath. Leaning against a tree he glanced back along his path and stared at the red glow of the rising sun as it lit up the treetops. It was a stunning sight; especially since the sun was rising in the north and six hours early. Jarod's brow furrowed as he wondered what was causing the glow but a second later the answer came to him as a scent on a breeze. The fireworks.

"Oh, shit!"

He dropped the pack to the ground and dumped out the contents, replacing them with the DSA case before shrugging back into it. Strapping it on quickly, Jarod started running down the hill, retracing his last steps at a furious pace, praying he didn't fall in the darkness and break a leg. As the trees whipped by him, Jarod cursed himself for leaving Skinner tied up; for leaving him at all.

 

Skinner pulled at the ropes, twisting and turning, trying desperately to break free but Jarod had tied a good knot. If he'd had time to work at it, Skinner was sure he would have been able to untie himself eventually, but in a moment of panic when he'd first realized the northern hillside was on fire, he had tugged on the ropes, unintentionally making the knots tighter. 

Rolling onto his side, Skinner arched his back until he could reach the ropes on his ankles. The smoke was getting thicker and he could hear the rumble of the fire eating up the dry trees  
and underbrush. By his estimates he had about ten minutes before he was reduced to charcoal by the inferno.  
He worked furiously on the knot then paused to compose himself. This was not the time to panic. Taking a deep breath, and tasting the smoke, he felt the knot, pictured it, then went to work untying it.

 

Jarod burst into the clearing just as Skinner pulled the rope free of his ankles, his arms still tied behind his back. Barely acknowledging each other they both ran for the van, arriving at the drivers door at the same time.

"Untie me!" Skinner demanded, turning his back on the younger man.

Jarod glanced at the fire, flames now visible a few hundred yards away. "No time! Where is the key?" Jarod yelled over the advancing roar of flames.

Skinner shook his head stubbornly then coughed. "I'm driving. Untie me!"

Jarod reached for the ropes and found the knot pulled tight. Without another word he quickly frisked the other man, found the key in his pocket and yanked it out.

Skinner blinked the sweat and smoke from his eyes as he realized Jarod was not doing as ordered. Before he could protest further he was shoved into the van and the door was closed behind him. Mere seconds later the engine turned over and they were headed down the logging road, away from the flames.

As the van bounced wildly, Skinner continued to struggle against the ropes. Now that he wasn't in immediate danger of being roasted alive, he was able to calm down enough to concentrate on the knot. After all, Jarod had wanted him to be able to get free eventually so there had to be a simple solution. 

 

Jarod eased the van to the side of the road as another pumper truck passed him, headed for the fire. He watched it disappear from view in the side mirror and wondered what it would be like to fight a fire on such a large scale. Maybe when this was over, he could join a crew. After all, it was the middle of brush-fire season in the Southwest. Surely they'd welcome some extra help without too many questions. He checked the road one more time then reached toward the gearshift. The movement was never completed as the bite of a handcuff clamped down painfully on his wrist while a muscular arm wrapped around his throat from behind. It didn't take a genius to figure out the roles of captor/prisoner had been reversed once again.

"You so much at twitch and I'll break your fucking neck."

Jarod had no doubt about the validity of that statement. He actually held his breath while Skinner dragged him from the drivers seat and into the back of the van.

Once he had room to maneuver, Skinner shoved Jarod to the floor, jerking his arms behind his back and roughly cuffing him. He looked down at the motionless form and resisted the urge to vent his fury, opting instead to tighten the cuffs to the point where circulatory interference was within reach.

"Sit up," Skinner growled as he retrieved the rope that had so recently been around his own arms.

Jarod rolled onto his back then struggled to sit up, leaning against the van wall. He opened his mouth to explain but closed it again as Skinner glared at him.  
"Not a word," Skinner snarled, crossing Jarod's ankles before tying his feet together tightly. "Not. One. Fucking. Word. Got it?" he asked, standing to tower over the bound man.

Jarod nodded mutely then looked away. Behind the anger on the older man's face was hurt and confusion and Jarod hated himself for causing it. He kept his gaze averted as Skinner rummaged through a box before pulling something from it then stalking back to the drivers seat. Jarod heard the familiar beep of a cell phone being activated and swung his head around. Who was he calling?

Skinner seethed as he waited for the line to connect. If he had been given the same instructions as the people Jarod said were chasing him, dead or alive, there would be a corpse in the back right now. The line finally connected and the phone rang twice before being answered.

Jarod listened closely as Skinner argued with someone on the phone while consulting the map he kept on the dashboard.

"Summit Ohio? Where and when?........Can't you make it sooner?.....I know I was supposed to take him to Delaware but it's not going to happen. Either you come get him or I'll dump his body somewhere you'll never find it. ......... Okay, I got it," Skinner wrote something on the map and tossed it back on the dash. "Don't be late," he ordered before disconnecting the call. Skinner tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and resisted the urge to look back at Jarod. He knew the other man had listened to the conversation - hell, he couldn't miss it - and now knew the price he would pay for this little escapade. 

Jarod closed his eyes as the van started and Skinner headed east once again. Summit Ohio. Jarod knew where that was and knew how long it would take to get there. He had about thirteen hours to convince the other man that there were some things that could not be pretended.

 

Summit, Ohio

The van rolled to a stop behind a deserted factory and Skinner cut the engine, throwing the area into a deathly silence. There wasn't even the sound of a bird to break the feeling that time had come to a stop while Jarod's fate was decided. The man had talked for a solid hour, trying to convince Skinner he was making a mistake. In the end, it was only the threat of a gag that had stopped the desperate words from flowing unabated. The rest of the trip had been made without conversation, the silence broken only when it had started to rain in torrents, pounding against the vehicle and bringing with it a cold dampness that fit the mood perfectly.

It was three in the afternoon but the sky was dark, casting the area into drab shadows. The rain had let up and a light drizzle was falling as Skinner opened the door and gestured for Jarod to get out. As he stood up, Jarod looked into Skinner's eyes, still hoping he would change his mind, but it was not to be. The sound of several cars approaching caused them to turn, watching as they came to a stop a few dozen yards away.

Skinner was surprised at the number of men Cancerman had brought with him. He'd been expecting two or three, but as they exited the cars, Skinner counted seven. There would be no escaping now. Skinner looked at the cuffs on Jarod's wrists and made a decision. He was sentencing Jarod to a life without life, but he could at least send him to it unbound. He removed the cuffs quickly then pushed Jarod forward before he could change his mind.

Jarod's first thought as his hands came free was of escape, but one look at the well-armed group waiting for him and he knew it would be a futile attempt. He would have other chances. It would probably take several years, but he would see his freedom again or die trying. He saw someone step away from the group and gesture to him to come over, but he hesitated,  
intending to get in a few last words to his quiet companion. Before he could turn he felt a hand on his back, urging him forward; so he went, the words unspoken.

Skinner watched, half expecting Jarod to look back, but he didn't. With an air of confidence he couldn't possibly be feeling, Jarod walked toward the small group, weapons trained on his every move. As he reached them, the pretender was grabbed, slammed against the side of the car and searched thoroughly before being re-cuffed and shoved inside. The other men piled into the vehicles and in a matter of seconds it was over; Jarod was gone.

Skinner stared down the road long after the cars had driven away and when he finally moved it was only to drop to his knees and vomit onto the damp ground as the clouds opened up once again.

 

J Edgar Hoover Building,  
Two Days Later

Skinner looked up as the door leading to the hallway opened and his personal devil strolled into his office. He bore his usual smug expression, the ever-present cigarette hanging from his lips.

"You wanted to see me?" His voice was smooth, almost sugary sweet. 

He knew. The bastard knew and Skinner was certain of it although he'd just made the decision an hour earlier. It was almost enough to make him change his mind, but he didn't dare. He'd never live with himself if he didn't at least try to correct his mistake.

"I want to make a deal." Perfect. He sounded businesslike but not desperate.

Cancerman man smiled. He'd been waiting for this moment for such a very long time.

"Another one? If I recall correctly, and I do, you have nothing to offer." He ground out one stubby butt in the ashtray and lit another before adding, almost as an afterthought. "I own you."

That was exactly the response Skinner had been expecting, yet he felt himself blanch at the actual words. His voice was low but strong when he answered. "No you don't. Not quite."

The other man was pleased and wasn't afraid to show it. He let a predatory smile play across his nicotine stained lips. "What are you saying? You're ready to join us...completely?"

What Skinner wanted was to wipe the smug expression off the bastards face and toss him out the window. Unfortunately, the glass was unbreakable and the windows didn't open. Bad planning on the designers part.

Skinner pushed himself away from his desk and stood, moving across the room to stand in front of the man he was about to sell his soul to. At least, what was left of it. "I want him released."

"Who?" The feigned innocence was overkill, but he was truly enjoying himself. The look of controlled fury on Skinner's face was pure entertainment.

"You know damn well who I'm talking about."

"Tell me." 

Skinner tried to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry. What the hell was he doing? "Jarod. I want him released."

"Why?"

"I just do," Skinner replied, almost snarling. "Leave it at that."

"You're gathering quite a collection of strays, AD Skinner. You've made deals to protect Mulder and Scully, which was in my best interest, Krycek, even though he tried to kill you, and now Jarod? There has to be a reason."

Skinner shook his head and shrugged. "Nothing you would understand."

"Try me." Oh yes, this was perfect. He was going to get what he wanted without having to lift a finger and he had the added pleasure of making the man squirm.

Skinner had moved to stare out the window at the tree-lined courtyard below his office. It was time to lay down with the devil.

"You've wanted my...cooperation, my full cooperation, for some time now. This is the only time I'll offer it, and all I want in return is to have proof that Jarod is released unharmed."

"You understand that isn't an easy thing to ask. We have a deal with the people who own him and--"

Skinner spun around and crossed the room in three steps, intending to crush the other man, but stopped just short of grabbing him. He was inordinately pleased to see a flash of fear in the bloodshot eyes looking back at him.

"Nobody 'owns' Jarod. He is not property and if I'd known what kind of hell I was returning him to when this first started, I never would have helped you."

"I wasn't aware you had a choice."

Skinner ignored the remark. "I'm offering you something you've been after in exchange for something you don't even need. Do we have a deal?"

Cancerman stood and straightened his jacket before snubbing out a Morley with his right hand and placing another in his mouth with the left.

"I'll let you know."

"When?" The AD demanded an answer. He couldn't go another day wondering, not knowing and waiting.  
He turned back to Skinner and gave another sickly smile. "Soon."

 

Skinner fought with the lock of his apartment door, jiggling the knob violently before the key finally turned. Entering the apartment, he kicked the door closed behind him and threw his keys on a nearby table where they landed with a satisfying clank. Making his way into the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, he toed off his shoes as he opened the bottle, uncharacteristically leaving them on the kitchen floor as he wandered back through the apartment, beer bottle to his lips.

By the time he reached the stairs the bottle was empty. Leaning down, he set it on the bottom step and gazed at it consideringly. Maybe another one? He shook his head, deciding against it. Getting drunk wouldn't help. Skinner pulled of his jacket as he slowly trudged up the stairs. By the time he reached his bedroom he had removed his tie and had his dress shirt unbuttoned. He reached for the lamp then changed his mind. The darkness fit his mood perfectly.

Sighing heavily, he let his dress shirt drop to the floor then tugged his T-shirt over his head, wadded into a ball and tossed it in the general direction of the bathroom door. He briefly considered a shower to make himself feel better, but quickly pushed the idea away. He didn't want to feel better. He didn't deserve to feel better.

He thought about Jarod's DSA's that were safely hidden in the floor safe under the bed. Skinner had spent the last three nights watching Jarod grow up, from a frightened four-year-old to the self-assured man he had become. It had hurt him to watch the emotional, and sometimes physical abuse the Pretender had suffered, but he couldn't stop. He had to know what he'd done when he pushed Jarod toward those men Skinner closed his eyes, suddenly very tired. He undid his pants and stepped out of them before falling back onto the bed. As he laid there, a multitude of 'what-ifs' started playing hide and seek in his mind. What if he had never met Jarod? What if he hadn't turned him over? What if his deal had been accepted? What if, what if?

He groaned, rubbing his hands across his face, surprised when they came away wet. He was lying on his back his hands on his chest when he began to think about Jarod in the van the first time he'd had him. The younger man had been wonderfully receptive, spreading his legs willingly, his deep groans of pleasure reaching down to Skinners own cock. Just the thought started a reaction and his hand automatically strayed downward. As he began to stroke his erection through the thin material of his cotton briefs, he was startled by a deep voice from the darkest corner of the room.

"Can I help with that?"

Skinner was off the bed in a flash, his hand reaching for the gun on the nightstand before he remembered it wasn't there. He flicked on the light and faced the intruder as his eyes fought to adjust to the sudden glare in the room. Skinner took a step back as the figure approached, then he froze and he swore his heart actually skipped a beat.

"My God.....Jarod?"

The other man gave a short laugh.

"If you have to ask, I must look worse than I thought," Jarod replied as he gently fingered the bruise on the side of his face.

Skinner didn't find the humor in that statement. He looked at the filthy, battered man in front of him and felt his blood pressure start to rise as he began to count the ways he would make Cancerman pay for this before he personally ripped his throat out. He was on plan three when he was shaken from his thoughts as Jarod took a limping step toward the bed.

"Shit, Jarod," Skinner swore as he jumped over the bed and grabbed the man's arm to steady him. "Sit down before you fall down."

He watched Jarod sit down carefully, favoring his right hip and trying not to get any of the dried mud that covered him on the bed. Jarod looked up at Skinner and smiled apologetically.

"I'm a little dirty."

Skinner snorted and shook his head. That was an understatement if ever he'd heard one. Jarod's blue T-shirt and jeans, the same one's he'd been wearing when Skinner first abducted him, didn't have a clean spot on them and looked like he'd been on the losing end of a mud wrestling match. 

"What the hell --" Skinner stopped. This was not the time to interrogate the man. There would be time for that later. He was on his knees without a second thought, pulling off Jarod's equally muddy boots and socks, tossing them toward the bedroom door. Once that was taken care of, he stood up and looked at Jarod consideringly. Which would be easier; vacuuming the dirt from the carpet or sweeping the bathroom tile? It was the thought of the dirt in the bathroom turning to mud if it got wet that made up his mind. 

"Come on, Jarod," Skinner ordered, taking hold of the mans arm and pulling. "Up and out of those clothes. You're a health hazard."

Jarod grimaced as he once again found himself on his feet. All he wanted to do was sleep, preferably in Skinners arms, then eat everything he could get his hands on. However, he decided this wasn't bad either as Skinner began to undress him.

Once the T-shirt was pulled off, Skinner cursed again at the bruises along Jarod's right side. He automatically reached out to touch them then pulled back, mumbling something under his breath that Jarod didn't catch. Skinner made quick work of the snap and zipper, pulling Jarod's jeans off carefully, remembering the way the other man had favored his hip. Once the boxers  
followed the jeans down around Jarod's ankles, Skinner got his first look at the bruise that went from hip to knee.

"Damn, Jarod. You sure do bruise pretty," Skinner tried to joke.

Jarod smiled and steadied himself by gripping Skinners shoulders as he stepped out of his clothing. As the pants and boxers were kicked free, Skinner stood and wrapped his arm around Jarod, leading him into the bathroom.

Skinner hit the light switch then left Jarod standing against the wall as he turned on the water and let the tub start to fill. Reaching behind him, Skinner pulled a box from the medicine cabinet and examined the label before dumping a good portion of the powder into the tub where it immediately began to react with the water, capturing Jarods attention.

"You're fixing a bubble bath?" he asked incredulously.

Skinner grimaced as he put the box away then leaned down to check the temperature.

"It's not bubble-bath," he replied, trying to sound convincing. "Not really. It's an aroma therapy bath. According to the box, it 'relaxes and soothes'."

Jarod processed this information and could see the logic in it. "And you purchased this bubble-bath to help you relax?"  
Skinner sighed, wishing the tub would hurry and fill. It was double sized, installed by the previous tenant, and it took forever to fill, which is why he hardly ever used it. He also had a suspicion that it used up so much hot water that it left the other tenants without any for a while. Skinner looked at Jarod was still waiting patiently for an answer.

"It was a gift, a gag gift, at last year's Christmas party. One of my agents thought I needed to relax more." Skinner was about to kick himself for saying 'agent', but quickly realized his life was no longer a secret from Jarod, if it ever was.  
The tub finally filled and he gave Jarod a hand stepping in, hanging onto his arm as the younger man sank into the water with a contented sigh.

"I think I just found the place I want to spend the rest of my life," Jarod stated as the heat started to sink into stiff muscles and aching bones. He shifted uneasily against the hard tub and tile against his back and head, then looked up at Skinner who stood watching him, still clad in nothing but his briefs.

"You know what would make this perfect?" Jarod asked, trying to sound innocent.

Skinner smiled indulgently. "No, what?"

"If I had something softer to lean back against," was the wistful reply.

Skinner rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Softer, huh? Let's see...a pillow would get wet, so we need something that can get wet but dries easily....."

"Drop the briefs and get in here," Jarod ordered as he scooted forward to make room. He watched as Skinner de-briefed himself and got into the tub, sliding down behind Jarod then pulling the Pretender back against his chest.

Jarod was now truly contented as he reclined against Skinner, his head resting on the mans shoulder. He sighed as the strong arms wrapped around him from behind and he closed his eyes.

If someone had told Skinner an hour ago that he'd be at home right now, drunk and loathing himself, he would have believed them, no questions asked. Had they said he'd be naked in a tub, holding Jarod again, he would have bet his life against it. He smiled to himself; sometimes it was great to be wrong.

Skinner relaxed his arms, letting his hands explore the muscular body beneath them. He ran his fingers up Jarod's sides, being careful of the bruise he'd seen, and around in front, moving across his chest and strategically avoiding his nipples. Skinners hands met up on Jarod's stomach and moved lower together, over his flat abdomen and stopping as they reached the light dusting of pubic hair at his crotch before starting back toward his chest.

Jarod groaned in frustration he reached for his neglected cock, only to have his hand stopped by Skinner.

"No way," Skinner whispered in Jarod's ear. "All bathtub toys are for me to play with." To make his point, he began to kiss and nip his way down Jarod's neck to his shoulder, resisting the urge to mark him with a hickey. The poor guy was colorful enough at the moment.

Jarod arched back, tilting his head to the side to give Skinner better access to his neck. As the kissing and nipping continued, Jarod felt the other mans hands resume their exploration and tried to mentally will them to continue downward. His efforts were rewarded when he felt a hand encircling his erection, already straining and ready come. The hand left immediately and he knew Skinner must have realized how close Jarod was already. By the sensation Jarod was having on his back, he wasn't the only one ready either. Skinners cock was pressed between them, eager to be let in on the festivities.  
Skinner knew what he wanted, but he needed to hear something from Jarod first. He wrapped his arms around the Pretender again and pulled him tightly against his chest.

"I have to ask you something," he began, only to be cut off.

"Whatever it is, the answer is yes," Jarod replied honestly. He was not in the mood to be talking.

Skinner had a fleeting urge to take him at his word, but his conscience, and ego, wouldn't let him.  
"No, seriously, Jarod. You have to know how bad I've felt about what I did. I even tried to get you back yesterday morning, but I don't think I was very convincing."

Jarod laughed, startling the older man.

"You tried to trade for me yesterday morning?" He twisted around slightly and saw Skinner nod. "Well, it wasn't your convincing that needed work; they had nothing to trade. I escaped a few hours after you -- after they took me."

Skinner felt his jaw drop and he pushed Jarod to sit up and turn so he could look him in the eye.

"You what?"

Jarod shrugged. "I escaped. It wasn't hard;you've seen me do it. Only this time I did it for real."

"For real?" Skinner still wasn't sure what he was hearing. "As opposed to every time you tried to get away from me?"

Jarod put on his most innocent face. "Now why would I want to get away from you? I was enjoying our little road trip."  
Skinner sighed and leaned back against the cool tile, not sure if he was relieved or furious.

"So you have any idea how close I came to shooting you, just to make sure you stayed put? And all that time you were playing?"

Jarod shook his head. "Not 'playing', pretending. Vast difference. I did miscalculate a little, though," he admitted, his voice softening. "I never really thought you'd turn me over."

Those words made Skinner's stomach churn. Jarod hadn't said it accusingly, or maliciously, but just as a matter of fact. That's what made it hard.

"I'm sorry, Jarod, but I honestly had no choice. I'm sorry--"

The words were cut off as Jarod leaned forward, claiming Skinners mouth. He didn't want an apology. Hell, he would have probably done the same thing. He wasn't exactly innocent in all of this. Jarod pulled away, his brown eyes searching Skinners.

"We both did and said things that we thought were a good idea at the time. That's over. I have to leave in the morning before they realize I'm here. I don't want to spend the time arguing over who should have done what. Do you?"

Skinner shook his head and reached for the bruise on Jarod's face, running his fingers over it lightly.

"I thought they wanted you in working order. I never guessed you'd be beaten."

Jarod laughed loudly and Skinner pulled his hand back. 

"Unfortunately, I can't blame them for most of this," Jarod admitted. "After we left the factory, the cars split up, I assume in case we were being followed. Anyway, I was left with the driver and two guards. I got one of the cuffs off without attracting any attention and when the car stopped to wait for a train to pass I blind-sided one of the guards. With him out of the way I struggled with the second while the driver tried to climb over the seat to help. He ended up flipping over into the guards lap and while they untangled themselves, I made my escape through this muddy, swamp-like field and tracked you down."

"Fascinating" Skinner replied dryly. "Now suppose you tell me what really happened."

Jarod pretended to look hurt. "You don't believe me?"

Skinner looked over the visible bruises again. "Let's just say I have my doubts."

"Well, take it or leave it, that's the story I've decided to stick with," Jarod replied as he turned and leaned back against Skinner again. He thought for a moment that the other man would force the issue, demanding to know what really happened, but he apparently decided to wait. Jarod smiled in relief as strong arms closed around him once more, squeezing him tight once before the hands slid lower.

Skinner thought about the reasons Jarod might have for hiding the truth and came up with quite a few, none of which made him feel any better. It was clear the younger man was hiding the details to avoid causing Skinner any guilt or pain. If that was the case, Skinner was more determined than ever to get to the truth; later. Right now, he had more important things on his mind. He leaned into Jarod and licked behind his ear before whispering a question, grinning at the eager nod from the dark head.

Jarod knelt in the water, straddling Skinners thighs and let the older man guide him backwards. As hands spread his cheeks, Jarod felt the head of Skinner's erection against him. Already slick from the suds and relaxed by the hot water, he pushed out as he lowered himself onto the hard cock, surprised when the soft head popped through the ring of muscle somewhat painlessly. Jarod lowered himself slowly, a slight discomfort being overridden by the underlying pleasure until he was finally, completely impaled on Skinner's shaft.

"Okay?" Skinner asked, his voice strained. He had never been so close to coming without doing anything to cause it in his life. Just thinking about where his cock was nearly pushed him over the edge.

"Oh, I think I'm doing just great," Jarod replied. He raised himself up a little then dropped back, feeling Skinner's length brush against his prostate.

"Good God, Jarod," Skinner choked out. "Do that again and you'll kill me." Skinner could feel the sweat beading on his head as he struggled to stay in control. He had to get his mind off of it. 

Reaching around, his hands located Jarod's own erection which was hard as granite and leaking into the water. Skinner ran his tongue up Jarod's back as he used his free hand to fondle the mans scrotum while he masturbated him with long, firm strokes.

Any pain Jarod had been feeling was lost in the sensations rushing through his body. Relaxed from the water, a hand on his balls, a hand on his cock and his ass full of Skinner was too much to think about. Jarod did the only thing he could; he shut down his brain and let his body take the lead.

Skinner had his eyes closed as he worked Jarod's erection, waiting for him so they could come together. It wasn't selflessness, however. Skinner knew it would be better for him if he was inside Jarod when the younger man came and he was determined to do just that.

Jarod was breathing in short, gasping breaths when the hand on his balls noticed they were starting to draw up, ready for release. Jarod was dying to move, wanting to feel Skinner inside of him again, but waiting. He was on the edge when he was finally allowed that pleasure.

"Okay, Jarod," Skinner ordered breathlessly. "Go ahead."

Jarod needed no further encouragement. He raised himself up and dropped back five or six times before he couldn't last another second. His groans of pleasure echoed around the bathroom as thick streams of cum jetted from the water, hitting the tiled wall just below the shower-head. As his internal muscles constricted around Skinner, he too came, thrusting his hips up, driving himself into Jarod over and over, not knowing, or caring whos screams were reaching his ears.

Just as Jarod thought he was finished, Skinner thrust into him one last time, his hand coaxing one more weak spurt from Jarod's cock. Gasping for air, Jarod detached himself from Skinner's softening cock and settled between his legs again, laying back against the heaving chest.

When he thought he could speak again, he turned his head and looked up at Skinner. "How was that?"

Skinner's jaw dropped at the question and he looked at Jarod's expressionless face. "How was that? I hope you're joking."  
Jarod managed to keep the smile off his face for all of three seconds before he started laughing. A moment later, Skinner joined in before splashing the other man with the now, luke-warm bath water.

Three floors away, the reckless sound of a match being stuck and the hiss of an oxygen tank were the only noises in a nearly vacant apartment. The flickering light of a monitor played across the features of two men occupying the room. As they watched the water fight progress, both had their own plans for the tape they had just made. It was just a matter of time now.

The End


End file.
